


The Adventures of Mykle Briggs

by Sailboatstudios



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Jedi Training, Misfit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-04 12:16:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13364523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sailboatstudios/pseuds/Sailboatstudios
Summary: Throughout his short life Mykle Briggs wanted to prove he was more than just a random person from a bad neighborhood. He Fell in love with the spectacular Jedi in his cruel home world of Lianos. But even while improbably making it to the Jedi Temple, his progression as a Force-user has stalled noticeably.





	1. Chapter 1

Why did he have to wear such heavy boots indoors? Mykle let his irritation show to his peers, not his superiors. Lifting his legs required the effort of doing the task while stuck in mud and wearing cinderblocks. This slowed him down in simple sparring sessions between him and fellow “Younglings” yet to be given the title of “Padawan.” Unlike them, however, Mykle was at a disadvantage, in more ways than just his footwear. This is Mykle Briggs’s first month in the Jedi Temple, he’s fifteen, on the older side and is getting routinely destroyed by younger opponents. Since the Clone War demanded the attention of the Masters and Knights, the task of overviewing the progression of the children were thrust upon Padawans. Mainly ones unhappy to be on the sidelines.

“Briggs!” Mykle heard someone bark, turning his lighter than a feather head seeing Koran standing impatiently to the side. “How many times I have to tell you, this isn’t boxing. You can’t ‘stick and move’!” 

“My bad, sir, just trying to add some flare.” Mykle admitted through his huffs of breath, smiling a little. 

“Well stop that.” Koran chastised, ordering a rematch immediately to take place. “Ahsoka,” he called for the attention of a orange-skin Togruta wiping sweat off her hairless brow. “Stop going off script.” Ahsoka doesn’t know what he means. Mykle did, Ahsoka’s style was an athletic one that lacks discipline. But her agility negates that, at least against someone of inexperience.

“Ready...” he held two fingers above his head, drawing them downwards “begin!” 

Mykle didn’t fair much better. Tano smashes him to the floor, his cotton candy legs crumbled. Growing increasingly frustrated, as was Koran, the Padawan mercifully pulled Mykle to the side and said “no more from you” a way reminiscent of a parent sick of their rowdy child. It’s been twenty-days, twenty-eight sessions and time after time he’s failed to make even the most modest of improvements. 

Those around Mykle didn’t really look or exchange pleasantries when he walked by his peers in the hallow hallways, when he’d say hi they wouldn’t say it back. He wasn’t used to being a loner. On Lianos he was quite popular. Fraternizing on the daily, he fit right in as a dreamer. Here he didn’t know his where his creed was to be found. The Younglings, religiously dedicated to their craft, never spoke of anything besides Jedi business. 

These are the adventures of a misfit wannabe Jedi, caught up in what must be, blind to what is.


	2. A Roll of the Dice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The universe continues to rot all around Lianos. Seventeen-year old Mykle Briggs sits on the sidelines as The Clone Wars rage on. Back to his old tricks, thrifting for chump change.

Descending horizontally on the landing pad, battle tested droids carted crates of ammo, parts and various other goods for the army in what seemed to be an endless supply. Lieutenant Irwin Sod tried to figure how'd he defend the base from attack. Irwin tried to pull the strings on the Count to move the base away from the city. His attempts have been rebuffed at every turn. Having been stationed on Lianos since the occupation five months ago, Irwin failed to remember the last time he even spoke to another being, always sending droid proxies to instill fear in the governors and local leaders. There isn't anything intimidating about a skin and bones bean counter who comes across as aloof. Informed of the latest shipment, Irwin grumbled "I have enough to support an army of 200,000 battle droids; the base, however, is as cramped as it is cold" shame no one was around to hear his compliant, the only associates of Dooku were his two apprentices and he did not under any circumstance want to see them in the same star system as he.

Resigned to his current status, Irwin continued to toil, crossing the T's and dotting the I's in the likelihood of some damned fool from the slums trying to start a fire. 

Down in those very slums the pitter-patter of rainfall dampened poorly maintained roads and the winds threatened the tin roofs of flying off into the distance. The people of Lianos didn't like their status quo government before the occupation; the CIS weren't separating themselves in a positive way, too say the least. The lights were off, people clung to the shadows just to grab a drink at their local pubs. The barroom lit only by candlelight, sat three uneasy gentlemen and one gentlewoman. Two of them deep in their despair, sought ail to wash away the unpleasantly of the day's events. The third fellow tried his luck with some fine looking ladies at the end of the bar, figuring he'd get one of them around his arms by the end of the night, or at the very least a complementary drink in return of leaving them alone. At the very end of the bar a boy sat his eyes fixated on a table, his hand shaking two cubes together, their rattling was the only audible sound in the entire pub. "Need a red and blue split" Semi told Mykle, who looked way to young to gamble. "Thank you," he said halfheartedly, like he didn't know that already. A quick flick of the wrist, complimented by an unseeable hand opening up, the dice came up light red and baby blue. Mykle nodded his head, gave a muffled "yee-haw!" he contained his joy enough to ask "where's my money?" The bartender scowled, begrudgingly handing him 230 credits. 

Slapping his hand on the table, he was just about to offer free drinks for all those in the pub, but thought better of it. Noticing the beady eyes staring daggers at an oblivious Mykle, too busy rearranging his pile of credits, setting himself up for the next bet. "I think we've had enough fun for one night," he advised Mykle to step away from the game. "Yeah," Mykle scoffed, pushing his credits back on to the table. 

"No, I'm serious." He tried again to reason, pointing towards the two guards, one making their way to the exit, the other walking slowly to the end of the bar. "I'm 300 credits for rent" Mykle belabored, " I need this." Conner looked down at the small pile of credits currently sitting in the middle of the table, those around them egging the young boy on. "You can find another way to get the money." 

"I can't" Mykle shook his head, the bartender gave him back the dice, to win again Mykle needed both of the cubes to come up red, most of the sides were blue, only nobody couldn't see it. Sighing, Conner gave a gentle slap of his shoulder. "I can buy you some time." He emphasized "SOME" as if to say, make it quick. Conner walked over, bumping into the burly built Zabrak guard, "whoa, sorry there, big fella" he wiped off the cocktail that spilled on the guard's black vest. "I can be such a klutz." He tried to strike up a conversation, contemplated even assaulting the guard outright. Wasting no more time, Mykle flicked his wrist again and the tainted dice clapped against the table and came up double red. "Winner" said a befuddled bartender "500", in his stupefied state, he handed Mykle his winnings. Grabbing what he could in his slender arms, Mykle called to Conner, currently in the middle of debating whether to throw the first punch in what he was probably instigating a fist-fight. "Gotta go," he said, quite giddy. "it was great talking to you." Mykle and Conner raced to the back exit, only to meet two boulders standing in the doorway. 

"Sorry, boys," the bartender chuckled darkly, drawing out his pistol in the light so the two could see. "But tonight just isn't your lucky night." 

A little "psst" escaped the corner of Conner's mouth, "you have an idea?" Mykle gave a sheepish little grin. "Been workshopping this for a while." He murmured. "Let's see it," Mykle took one look behind him, then past the bartender, his eyes widened "uh, SADIE" his horsed throat howled, briefly distracting those around him, and capitalized by delivering a strong invisible push, blowing them on their back. Stunned, the older Conner stood for a moment. "Good plan," Mykle grabbed Conner by the shirt, called to Sadie and Dahntay, who were too busy with their own affairs. "Forgot them, let's get out of here." 

Conner stopped them in the hallway, knowing where Mykle would be his most antsy, seeing as they were too far from their pursuers. "Give me my half." He told him, holding Mykle by the hand like a dad would with a misbehaving child. "What? No, not until we're out of here." 

Unwilling to wait, Conner refused to let go. "I'll hold them off, I need the money now!" Not wanting to argue any further, Mykle groaned and handed Conner his cut: 200 credits even. Beaming, Conner withdrew his pistol, pointing it directly. "Now the other half." 

"Ugh, seriously! Now?" Mykle wasn't as fearful of what Conner was threatening to do, more than annoyed. "Shouldn't go underground for a body guard. On this planet it's every man for himself."

"Yeah, I need it now!” Mykle threw the remaining 300 credits at Conner's chest, the pinging when they colliding with the cold floor vibrated throughout the hall. "Hey! Down there!" Leaving Conner behind to scoop up his earnings, Mykle figured at least he'd get a clean escape thanks to the crooked body guard holding off the pursuers. Nope. Cornered once again. 

"Hey, he has your money!" He pointed towards a stumbling Conner. But that didn't stop them from grabbing Mykle and dragging him into the back room. "You don't choose your friends wisely." Remarked the bartender, "he's cost me a lot." 

"Go get him then." Mykle spat, he took a nasty punch to the left cheek when he struggled to break free. "You just let him walk!" 

Indifferent, the bartender cleaned his saliva covered hand, taking a seat in front of the boy. "We'll find your bodyguard, do not worry. But this is strictly between me and you." His face changed much like Conner's did, a bemused smile appeared, practically giddy at whatever he was about to propose. "I know you've cheated using your power, so how about you come work for me?" 

"You don't even know who i am." Mykle pointed out. He didn't even know the name of the bartender. "Pardon me and my poor manners." He extended his hand, though knowing Mykle wouldn't be able to shake it. "Semi Kie, and I do know...well, I've heard of you Mykle Briggs."

"How do you know my..-"

"Rumors been swirling about a 'Force-Sensitive', ripping off my legit friends. You're fortunate that I got to you before they did first." His slimy, raspy tone struck a cord with Mykle, resisting the urge to flinch. Semi took out a small deathstick, took one big huff to settle his erratic breathing. When he settled - finally, he resumed. "Listen, I know you're a bad egg, and that you're in need of money. I heard what Conner said about your rent being due; don't tell me that's the only part of your life where you're in the red?" 

Annoyed by the questioning, Mykle refused to answer. But Semi was right. In his escapades Mykle accumulated some debt he wouldn't be able to pay out of pocket. Semi took the young boy's face, forcing him to look straight. "There's no other way you leave here with all your extremities unharmed." Seeing no alternative, Mykle hung his head low. "What do I have to do?"

 

Irwin was intentionally slow looking over his intelligence. Ground reports usually conflicted with each other , so he made sure to have many sources. This time around they all sounded - if not word-for-word similar. "What is this?" This never happens. "Where did you receive these transmissions?" He asked the bulky security droid, staring blankly at Irwin with his red eyes. "It was untraceable." He explained in his grainy voice. "How?!" Irwin became increasingly frustrated. Didn't you record the transmission as they came in? 

"The tracking device on the transmission must've been compromised." 

Always stating the obvious, Irwin grown irate, demanding a halt of any advancements of troops into the little town of MiCo; it isn't safe for passage, he repeated with conviction. In his poor temperament, Irwin became unaware of an accepted transmission from the Count Dooku, his emotionless face stared daggers to the back-turned Lieutenant. "I cannot fathom even the idea of sending thousands of soldiers to a hostile environment, to do what? Be barraged by snowballs before they burn houses down?" Irwin went on, noticeably red in the face. 

"You cannot? Then let me help you see." Irwin's mind did not register what had just occurred, he stood in place hoping the sound he just heard was his mind playing a cruel trick on him. "Interesting you'd keep this information from me, Lieutenant, please fill me in." The Sith did not look to happy to be left out of the loop; Irwin gulped, not knowing whether to defend himself or profusely apologize.

Back inside the pub, the noise did not draw any attention from the patrons, even Mykle's friends weren't perturbed by the trouble he seemingly landed himself in. It had become such a common occurrence they'd become numb to it almost. "Aren't you worried about your friend?" A noticeably tipsy patron tapped the Twi'lek Sadie Hawkins. She thought for a moment, commenting "he'll be back," and returned to her business. "Someone of his talents could be useful in our efforts." Another patron, though of a clearer mind, offered. "No, he would kill us all with his lack of interest." Her reply drew confused looks, asking her to clarify. "You seen him tonight, he's a good kid, but doesn't have his priorities in place." She knew Mykle since he was young child, as did Dahntay, both older than Mykle by a few years. Dahntay agreed with Sadie's sentiment. 

"I like Mykle," was all Dahntay said, not offering anymore detail. "Now let's get to the business at hand." He went back to forging messages, "we found that informant in Lyons?" He asks, hoping they'd reach him before he'd send a conflicting report and Irwin would get wise to the ploy. 

"You're working on his transmission." Sadie pointed down. Dahntay did a double-take. "Right," he blinked then went back to work "I need to sleep."

"You can sleep when you're done." Sadie did not have much sympathy in her voice, more angsty than anything else. "We don't have much time."

"How do you know how much time we have?" Dahntay questioned, to which Sadie did not have a response for. "Shut up."

"And....done," Dahntay let out a loud sigh of relief, laying back in his chair going limp. Sadie observed the tampered transmission checking to see if it matched previous messages just enough that it was largely the same as the others, but not a word for word remake. 

"What do you hope to accomplish with this?" Meyers asked, though he wanted no part of what was taking place, his curiosity got the best of him; the lone reason he was at the pub was he didn't want to go home and there wasn't another place to have a decent drink. "To give MiCo time to gather its resources before the CIS send their occupation force." Answered Sadie. 

"How much time?" He asked.

"By my estimate, an extra day or two." Dahntay replied. "Enough time for the local militias to group up, organize tasks force to protect the civilians unfortunate enough to find themselves in the the firefight. Meyers shrugged and went back to cleaning off his pint. "That's all I wanna know," he stopped Dahntay from continuing. "I don't want to have actual information for when I get interrogated." 

"Thanks, M, you're a true friend." Sadie remarked with a noticeable smirk. "Don't worry about it," he raised up his glass as if to say 'cheers'. "Go speak with Cardwell, tell him he has between 28 to 56 hours, don't waste a single second." Dahntay told Sadie, using the back door to escape detection from CIS spies. 

"You worried about Mykle?" Dahntay contacted Sadie through the com-link, since he stayed behind in the pub. He could not get the troublesome situation it seemed Mykle put himself into once again. "Not really," again, the Twi'lek seemed indifferent "Semi is crooked, but wouldn't kill him. Knows we'll come down on him hard." 

"Does Mykle know that?" Dahntay asked, bring a little amusement to the all serious woman. "Are you kidding? Could you imagine the boundaries that boy would cross if he knew he had free-reign." Dahntay agreed it was best to keep Mykle in the dark. 

 

In the back room, Mykle reemerged with Semi wrapping his arm around the young boy's neck in a joking manner. The bartender laughed hardily while Mykle struggled to decide whether to laugh too or just to stay quite. "Young boy," he started what must've been his tenth sentence that way "I think you're very smart and capable; so I cannot see how this partnership could possibly fail."

"So what am I to do for you exactly?" Mykle finally brought himself to pop the all important question. "Nothing too demanding," Semi promised, but to Mykle that meant the exact opposite "you will find me speeders, bikes and other vehicles. I'll send you the models I need tomorrow, for now let me get the info. And, Mykle, take this." He handed him all of his winnings. "I need my boys to be well rested for work, and that isn't' something you can get sleeping on a park bench." A grateful Mykle restrained himself from hugging this slime-ball, his eyes doubled in size at the sight of his shiny credits. 

When the boy left the pub - through the back of course, Dahntay couldn't help but chuckle. "Look at you, helping our cause." Semi shrugged and made his way back behind the table, announcing all games of chance were closed for the night and last call for drinks was imminent. "It's all about getting my business back." Semi stated, though not fooling the trusting young man. 

"I seem to recall you stating that you hoped this occupation 'never ends.'" Dahntay said with a skeptical smile. "What's your angle?" 

"I'll sell your boss the vehicles necessary for the mission at a modest price." Semi thought quick to reply. But Dahntay wasn't buying it. "Even if that were true, those vehicles aren't yours, are they?" Pretending to be aggrieved, Semi took a look-around at the pub at hopes he'd find someone to defend his honor. Their were no takers. "I am shocked you'd accuse me of such acts!" By which he meant stealing, his actions of pretending to be flustered did not receive any sympathy. "When in reality: all is fair in war." He winked. 

 

Outside the pub, Mykle stayed close to the shadows, away from the main roads where the patrol was It's most prominent. Equipped with blaster, holding only an empty cartridge, Mykle knew this wasn't the time to play around and take detours, as per usual. On Lianos, it's all about the quickest way you can make legal tender. His life is defined by banknotes, hence his moving around so often. Age seventeen, he's lived on many planets, done various jobs and lied frequently to get ahead. Out of his favorite planets he took a respite on, it had to be Coruscant.

But Lianos was no Coruscant. There wasn't a bustling city with speeders cluttering the skies, or bright lights that inspired many reach what they once thought was unattainable. Lianos is where hopes and dreams went to die. Worse. It's been described as the retirement home for the two nouns, where they're not dead yet, but might as well be. Nobody leaves this planet. The crime families ran the place like gangsters, holding auctions of alien men and women, sometimes children, and humans unable to pay their debts as a way to make an example of them. Then the CIS came, dismantled the powerful families and established a somehow worser oligarchy. Where nothing was really different, except able bodied beings were forced to swear allegiance to the Confederacy when many saw themselves as citizens of the Galactic Republic.

Much of Lianos was dark, the only light came from the flashlights used by the patrol droids. They did not have complete control of the area, but had enough where they could put a few hundred of droids in a town here and there and shut the power down for any neighborhood expected to be housing rebels. 

Crouching behind bushes and hiding behind trees, this all felt like an elaborate game of hide-and-seek, except the penalty for being found was somewhere between a death sentence and a five month stint in prison. Neither sounded appetizing to Mykle, if to anyone. Patrol droids didn't pay much attention to the high end neighborhoods, those rich enough to buy privacy weren't subjected to the same measures to quell uprisings as the poor were. Witnessing the patrol droids harassing shopkeepers merely locking up for the night, demanding funds to as restitution - if it were to happen as a result of the shopkeep being late. A draconian law that angered many in MiCo and other towns. 

"What are you doing?" The shopkeeper became irate seeing his family being aggressively patted down. "Merely protocol, sir," the droid responded coldly. "They're just kids!" The two boys tried to struggle their way out of their claw-like grasp, nearly puncturing their shoulder blades, they screamed for their dad, the mom was being dragged away. "Okay, I'll pay up, I don't have the money on me now but give me a few days." He pleaded to the cold, soulless droid.

Mykle wanted to intervene, he's seen this play out numerous time and had to be physically restrained from doing so. What is his plan? Hit the droid with the grip of his pistol and get shot into a million pieces? Even if his Force capabilities could somehow takedown the small band he'd surely be a wanted man and a hefty price on his head. It wasn't worth it, he told himself. His legs became heavier than cinderblocks, unable to pry his grey pupils from the scene unfolding. The father continued to plead his case, at least to let his children be freed, but the CIS were claiming them as "collateral" if he couldn't make good on his debts. Mykle found himself in a situation where if he did not intervene he wouldn't be able to live with himself. The kids would surely die or be indoctrinated into serving the CIS. And that is no life.

Giving into his compassionate side, Mykle groaned and inched closer to do some quick reconnaissance, seeing there were only four droids of the Super Battle variety. He took one big deep breath and reached out his left hand, closing his eyes to distance himself from the pulsating environment. One of the Super Battle Droids were lifted off the ground, rotated thirty degrees and pointed its automatic duel laser cannon at his fellow robotic soldiers, unable to stop himself he mowed down his comrades one by one, Mykle tensed as he could feel his control slipping. Feeling as if his heart was being sucked outta his chest, he let go and crumbled to the ground. One battle droid remained and was ready to fire, scanning the area for the aggressor. "Come out!" It demanded through its sluggish voice box. His red eye zeroed in, hearing Mykle's quite desperate attempts to refill his lungs with sweet air. The droid didn't even try to arrest the boy, he just cocked his blaster and aimed it for his skull. All was set for the final chapter of Mykle's story to be written when a gunshot - that he thought came from the droid - echoed in the night. With a loud clank the burning droid fell to the ground, the father stood in front, smoking pistol in hand.

The mother ran to the boy, the kids stayed by their father as he checked to make sure they were alright. "Are you okay?" The tattooed Dathomirian woman asked him sweetly. Mykle could only nod once in response, clearly still weak. "You saved us," the woman expressed her deepest gratitude. "Thank you." 

"Don't thank him yet," the father put his pistol back into his jacket, thanking the stars the droids didn't pat him down like they did the others "we don't have much time before more droids come to this area and start taking prisoners." He eyed Mykle suspiciously before extending a helpful hand, picking him off the cold ground. "Suppose it isn't all bad." Mykle looked at him quizzically. 

"We are leaving Lianos," the father figured he could say, as it's been killing him to keep the details secret "it's not a good place to raise kids, hopefully we'll still catch our flight." 

"Good luck," was all Mykle could bring himself to say, as they went their separate ways. Looking over his shoulder Mykle seen the mother and father checking on their kids's bruises, kissing the red marks. Shaking his head, the boy knew he too had to avoid causing attention before getting home.

When he arrived in the pigsty he called "home", Mykle helped himself to chocolate bars and cherry flavored soda. It sat in his stomach like fungus covered stone, refusing to devolve, but Mykle enjoyed the sweet taste of candy and he munched on another bar. He consumed about five a day, figuring he'd just walk or run it off during the day, and for the most part he was right - though his stamina suffered. 

A knock on the door forced him up from his comfortable seat, he opened the sliding door to see a silver skinned Omwati burnt a hole in Mykle with his beady eyes. "I've been waiting all day to-" Mykle cut him off, uninterested in getting chewed out by his landlord of all people. Grabbing his data pad from his hands, Mykle seen he was more in the whole than he expected: over 750, that's three months worth. "This is ridiculous!" Mykle charged Luewau with, growing frustrated himself. "You constantly leave the room a disaster, there's an odor omitting from your room that caused your whole floor to complain, not to mention the laundry list of grievances they have against you." Luewau went on and on until Mykle just told him to stop it. "Just give me a few-"

"No! No more." He had enough. "I want your stuff out of her by noon tomorrow or I'm calling the police." That was a little drastic, Mykle thought. But you can't trust any tenant here late on their rent to leave without the use of force. Mykle looked behind his shoulder seeing the mess he's made of the place in his short stay. Bugs flew over the sink, platers stacked atop one another in an untidy fashion. The fridge hadn't had been filled, Mykle wasn't one to go to the market, rarely having time. 

Taking a deep sign, Mykle tried to let this newest adversity rolling his shoulders but this one felt particularly heavy. Where was he supposed to go after tonight? He couldn't use his money to rent from a motel he had debts to pay and he couldn't sleep out in the street; people would like to get their hands on 500 credits. Going into his safe kept under his bed, Mykle pulled out an extra 47 credits he's been saving up. 47. The sleaziest motel in Lianos, The Carnivore, cost about 65 credits a night. At least their were some packs of ammo to keep him safe throughout the night. One thing he was sure of himself was his ability to hit his target. But he never wanted to make a career out of it. 

His wrist com-link rattled on his nightstand, a blue light showed whom was calling: it was Semi. Not what he was in the mood for right now. But quite frankly he wasn't in any position to decline the call, or play the game risk of playing hard to get with a real criminal. "Hello?" 

"Mykle, buddy! How are you?" Semi said, Mykle could detect the slurred speech in his voice. "I've been thinking, why don't you come to the club, The Challenge." Obviously wanting to turn in more than anything in the galaxy, Mykle rolled his eyes and accepted the invitation he was no in place to decline. Reloading his pistol, putting on a clean pair of clothes - his last pair, Mykle knew he'd be pulling an all nighter and that all he could reasonably ask for is Semi wouldn't ask him to be a hired gun tonight. He hoped the universe would let him keep some shred of honor when the sun rose tomorrow


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of chapter 3

Outside of the loyd diversity of names, Lianos' club scene could not have been more dull. The same pulsating horrid music pounded against the decaying walls, bartenders pouring poorly made drinks, not afraid to give it a "little kick"; code for spit, to the customers whom gave them a dirty look or what they thought to be one. 

But, still, patrons could enjoy a good buzz and drown their sorrows in overpriced foamy liquids. Mykle never cared for liquor, not that anybody would serve him any. His hairless chin didn't do him any favors in that department. But he preferred to keep a clear mind at all times anyway. "I'm looking for Semi, he said to give you my name." Mykle tapped one of his associates on the shoulder, standing idly behind velvet rope distanced from the main floor. "What's your name?" The guard asked, his blank eyes staring deep into Mykle's light grey's already trying to gauge whether what he was saying was truth or not. "It's Mykle Briggs..."

He unlatched the rope from its gold ring, Mykle was hoping he'd be thrown out and he'd at least get some rest tonight. Easier to explain a mistake that wasn't your fault to a scumbag like Semi, than to flat out refuse his "generous" invitation. "Mykle!" Semi burped, hoisting himself off his leather couch, wine bottle in hand, half empty. "Glad you came." He seemed to be the only one. Guards continued to eye Mykle with suspicion, one giving him an aggressive pat down, while Semi poured himself another drink.

"So, I heard you're in the market for a new home." 

"How...wha-" Mykle clearly was flabbergasted. How could he have already learned of his eviction? "I have eyes and ears all over Lianos," Semi stated "this is mine. All of this is mine." He tapped his chest proudly. "I want you to remember that." Mykle nodded. "I need you for something." Semi struggled to stifle his giggles, rocking side to side as he tried to sit down, but the room wouldn't stop spinning. "Some punk has been selling my guys out to the CIS, i need him dealt with." 

"I don't kill in cold blood." Mykle answered. "I'm not a hired gun." 

"Oh, but if you care about yourself you'll become one." For one moment Mykle beamed with self-confidence, looking directly in Semi's eyes. "Good luck finding another Force sensitive to do your bidding."

"You haven't done my bidding." Semi countered. 

"Nor, will I if you don't change my role." Reluctant, but understanding, Semi relented. "Alright, fine, no killing. Bring him to me and I'll deal--- NO!" He stopped himself. "I got a better idea, there's a town in Lianos called Sono, a Republic satellite, take him there and they'll give you a bounty." He proposed.

"So I'm a bounty hunter then?" Mykle asked him in a somewhat condescending manner, careful to bite his tongue. "If you want to stay alive." Semi replied spiritlessly. Pretending to think hard about his choices, Mykle rubbed his chin, his eyes darted to the floor. "Well, I do very much love being alive." 

"I have big plans for Lianos, things that'll bring the CIS to its knees." Semi spoke of his ambitions proudly. "I can't have any loose ends, of which there are many." Oh goodie, this errand boy gig isn't just a one-off thing.

"Alright, I'll bring him in." Mykle relented.

"Splendid. The man's name is Stersh and only Stersh, he's a Wookie so you'll need this." Semi handed Mykle a shotgun, a double barreled one. "Whoa," Mykle threw his hands up defensively, backing away. His reaction caused some panic in Semi's VIP section "I don't need that, first of all," he gestured with his right hand for the rifle to be lowered as it's barrels were pointed directly at him "what you're trying to do, spray my face with cloud pellets?" Mykle never liked to used guns but knew his way around them. "Where'd you get this thing anyway? Trandoshans are the only ones with those things." 

"I have my connections." Semi said nonchalantly. "Your man's in Eleek, he hangs out usually at the gun range, I suggest waiting for him to leave." 

Not wanting to stick around any longer Mykle made his exit, happy to once again soak in the quite night air and for one great fleeting moment he forgot all of his troubles. The sun that set hours before was beginning to rise and give color to the previously dark town. By his estimate, since he did not have a watch, he had seven hours until his belongings would be found on the street. Seven hours to find a whistleblower, incapacitate and drag him across the planet to the only Republic leaning territory on the whole system, while somehow avoid being killed in the process, collect the reward and lose most of it to Semi. 

"Big things, what big things does that crackpot have planned?" Mykle took Semi words to be the babbling of an incoherent crazy man. One slumlord is going to take down the most powerful army in the galaxy? Trusting a fifteen-year old kid to do your bidding didn't put the doubts Mykle had about Semi sanity away. Having to catch a ride to Eleek, stuffing himself into the cramped taxi, Mykle scouted the area from the message sent to his com-link by Semi assistants. Eleek's gun range did not stand out. It blended perfectly with the grey landscape, the small door located at the side gave Mykle the impression that the business was not a legit one. He wasn't aware of the gun laws in each of various territories on Lianos, they ranged from liberal and conservative on the issue. 

He was also told the vehicle he could expect the informant to be driving: a beat up, 520 landspeeder missing It's left door. Shouldn't be hard to pick out. 

 

If Dooku didn't wrap his big grey hands around Irwin's wrinkled throat, he certainly felt the life being choked out of him. The elder Sith Master showed little understanding for Irwin's bothersome situation; he wanted "results" and didn't want to wait long to get them. He did not wish to tell the Lieutenant why the small town of MiCo mattered so much, but after the aggression he's just been victim too he did not have the fortitude to ask. It's only droids after all, what could be the consequences for a few thousand biting the dust?

This line of thinking lead to plans to invade the town in the coming days. His sources pleaded with him not to be so hasty, but there was still one source that he trusted more than anything that had yet to submit his report. Stersh wasn't the most dutiful informant, usually late to file his work. Irwin knew Stersh was the smartest of his long line of informants. Never one to stay in one spot for long, always on the move and make little contact with anyone. Quite, deadly, Stersh did not know the importance weighing on him this moment; as there isn't a way to get in contact with him. 

It was this moments Irwin wished he didn't have automated yes men surrounding him. Back at the academy, before the volunteer army was dissolved a month before the initial beginning of The Clone War, brave and willing men of intelligence seemingly sprouted from the dirt like flowers. There wasn't a doubt in Irwin's prime mind that this war would be over if Dooku stayed the course and didn't opt for expendable forces in substitute of of actual men and women. 

"Sometimes I do not know what we are fighting for." Irwin confessed in his diary, before erasing the sentence and deleting the file on his datapad. It's been silent on the front for a while now, Irwin is old enough to not to take that for granted, but what did it matter? His disconnection from his soldiers and growing contempt for them made him, the practical army mind, lust for battle. What was with all this pragmatism? MiCo doesn't have the resources to mount an offensive against the base. 

"I should wait." He told himself not just once. He needed to wait; another part of him defiantly said no, he didn't. Even at the academy, his teachers chastised Irwin's unwillingness to go on the offensive. 

 

"Over two hours?" Mykle could not believe Stersh Been inside the gun range for so long. He knew he was in there because of his distinguishable speeder parked outside. He's never seen a Wookie before, he expected one to be taller than a skyscraper and burley as a Super Battle Droid. He didn't like his chances in a hand-to-hand combat. His counted himself fortunate his blaster came equipped with a stun setting. Species of that stature wouldn't go down from one shot, he'd need to find a way to hit him early and often.

Sitting in a speeder he'd broken into, hot-wired and scoured for bugs. 

Having enough of standing idle, Mykle contemplated walking right in the facility. He was initially hesitant to enter since he wasn't allowed to bring his blaster inside. The metal detectors would surely detect his concealed weapon, so he figured it wouldn't be wise. Stersh later emerged from the gun range, the blackish, coal furred Wookie looked as unkempt as a rat and Mykle could smell his odor from across the street, he had to roll up his windows. 

Stersh started the ignition and drove out of the driveway. The early morning sun was out, orange and glowing. It was unbearably warm, Mykle wondered if heatstroke would take Stersh down for him, but figured he wouldn't leave it up to chance. 

The slow tour through Eleek was not something Mykle needed. He's been everywhere and seen every standard of living Lianos had to offer. From rich, to poor, to gang ran and police-states, Eleek fell somewhere in the middle between the last two. One of the reasons the Galactic Republic wanted nothing to do with Lianos prior to The Clone War was its unpredictable, harmful nature towards its own people and its indifference to the pain and suffering of its people from its politicians. The PR would be too much to bare if the senate had to admit such a dastardly place under their roof. Burning buildings that hadn't been repurposed in years, empty sidewalks that used to feature citizens on their way to work. The only other vehicles on the road were those of authority, red and white sirens added much needed light to the abandoned town. Certainly more so given Mykle's speeder had a busted headlight. 

From what Mykle could make out, Stersh's tail lights were also out, both of them. A police car took noticed and rode his tailgate until Stersh was forced to pull over. Mykle pulled a good distance back, turning off the headlights to stay inconspicuous. But when the police offer exited the vehicle, Stersh immediately floored it and made his attempt at an escape. Mykle groaned, and commented how he should have seen that coming and leaped at the chance to give chase - so did the officer. His adrenaline started pumping, taking all of his discipline to hang back and not overheat his engine. 

Over the loudspeakers the officer called for Stersh to pullover his vehicle, of course that didn't happen. But the commanding tone of the officer's voice must've made the steady-handed Stersh go haywire, jerking the steering wheel, the Wookie failed to regain control of the swerving speeder and crashing into the concrete barrier. Stopping a good distance from the accident, Mykle thought the situation handled itself, figuring he'd leave before being spotted by the officer. But a twinge of doubt entered his mind, remembering this wasn't what Semi asked him to do. 

Withdrawing his blaster from the glove compartment, Mykle did not exit the speeder, instead opting to see where this would lead. The pit in his stomach grew, he began to get that sinking feel that he dreaded. Cautiously the officer approached the overturned speeder, Mykle could only see the man's back, followed by two bright red lights that seared through his body. Finally exiting the speeder, Mykle placed his blaster over the open door. "Freeze!" He ordered, but when he seen Stersh barely able to kick his way out the vehicle and drag his bloody, mostly limp body out he worked out the fact Stersh might as well have been frozen. 

But he still had his blaster in hand. It shook violently, even Mykle from the distance he was at could see. Steady hand or not, Stersh could still shoot straight, apparently, so unlike the officer, he wasn't taking any chances with his life. "Put the gun down!" He ordered. The Wookie looked despondent, a hint of disgust in his eyes. He roared in reply, questioning if Mykle's a cop or not. To which, he replied no. The Wookie nodded and raised his hand, slower than he'd like, Mykle took the initiative and fired the perfect shot which bounced off the barrel of the gun and further damaging the Wookie's gigantic right hand. "Don't mess with a crack shot." He taunted.

 

Fighting a war on countless fronts didn't bode well for anybody. Even Master Yoda, nearly 900-years of age, has seen every conflict you could imagine, even his peers remarked of his extra wrinkles he's earned thanks to the stress of The Clone War. Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi seen a new grey hair grow on his chin every day. But some took the war better than others - some actually fed off the honor and privilege to fight and would fawn over their comrades telling them tales of their most recent encounter with the enemy. Former apprentice, now Jedi Knight himself, Anakin Skywalker fell into this category, along with his Togrutan Padawan Ahsoka Tano. The years since losing his left arm have humbled the "Hero With No Fear", not all the way, but some. He still proudly wore his heart on his sleeve, and expectedly it rubbed off on the young fourteen-year old. 

"Master, wait up!" A feminine and taut voice called to the Jedi. Anakin turned to see the young girl, not even old enough to have graduated middle school if she weren't in the Jedi Order, she frantically slung her white striped backpack over his slender shoulders. "You didn't think you could leave without me, didn't you?" She commentated on Skywalker's habit of leaving her behind at times before missions. 

"Right," he rubbed his neck somewhat nervous "still not...uh, forget it." He was about to say he still wasn't used to having a Padawan; Anakin always preferred to March to the beat of his own drum and didn't want anybody slowing him down. That was until one faithful day Master Yoda deemed it a wonderful idea to give the 22-year old Knight a Padawan - despite the fact he never officially asked for one. 

Ahsoka put her hands on a hip, a little sass came with that posture, but Anakin didn't mind. He liked his student to have some free-reign to speak their mind. The Togruta gave her master a little smile before commenting "need to remember your student, Skyguy." Oh, he hates that nickname. Still, he didn't say anything about it because it would only spur her on to continue the moniker if she knew it bothered him.

Wanting to refocus, Anakin asked her if she studied the holomaps of Dantooine, a planet located in the Outer Rim, barley inside the Galactic Republic's jurisdiction. Nothing too major. Just a simple transportation of fresh troops subbing for the tired. Ordinarily they used to not have to worry about the safety of their soldiers being taken from one planet to the next, because the Republic's army used to be made up of in its entirety of Clones. But that all changed when Kaminoo - the plane where troopers were cloned, suffered from the hands of the CIS, wiping the facility off the grid and forcing the Republic to draft men and women who've never fought in their lives.

"Master Skywalker," Anakin rolled his eyes as another voice, this time he judged one to be of authority, called for his attention, turning his body around he seen it was Jedi Grand Master Mace Windu, sitting member of the Jedi High Council. "Yes, Master?" He greeted by custom. "The council would like a word with you, it is urgent." Mace didn't feel comfortable sharing the details in the hanger bay. 

"Now?" Anakin didn't feel like being dragged in for another briefing. "I'm just about to leave and-" 

"This is serious, Skywalker." Windu spoke in a cruel way that made the Jedi Knight stiffen, but comply nonetheless. "Come with me." The two followed behind the Grand Master, both unwilling ask for information of any kind, afraid of what they might learn not behind closed doors.

The council meeting room did not have any distinct decorations. It didn't even have all its members present. Six vacant seats, accompanied by two Jedi present via hologram and only two present in physical form. "Forgive us, Master Mundi, Plo and Tin were unable to attend." Windu informed Skywalker of their predicament. He looked around and asked about the other three non-attendants. "Lost contact with them." He said blankly. 

"Isn't Master Obi-Wan is a mission with Master Grant on Mandalore?" Anakin asked, confused why there wasn't much concern for disappearance of three respected masters. "Nearly a week it has been since their last transmission." Master Yoda replied solemnly. "But time to worry we do not have, an important matter has come up." 

"What?" Anakin did not know what could be more important. "Mandalore is wishing us to assist one of its neighboring planets." Windu introduced the odd request. 

"Mandalore isn't our ally." Padawan Tano stated the obvious. It's a neutral system headed by the Duchess Sataine, a leader the Republic considered to be on "good terms" with, but others were skeptical and deemed the relationship between the two powers as "icy" even if Sataine wasn't cut from the same warrior cloth as previous Mandalorian leaders. 

"They are also not our enemy," Depa Billaba, a brown skinned female reminded her. Anakin listened, not believing the council for a moment they hadn't talked to Kenobi since a week if this information is coming from Mandalore and they are willingly running with it as fact "a war torn planet, Lianos, struggles against its CIS oppressors." She added "it is in our best interest to help them in their fight." 

"Why does Mandalore care?" Anakin wanted the full go over. Depa took the question herself. "I imagine a neutral power develops a sweat when their neighbor is invaded by an enemy force. I do not think they wished to be dragged into the war." 

"Being neutral is what brought the Separatists to their doorstep in the first place." Anakin muttered. The war was deeply unpopular on Mandalore, as it was in most Republic territories, but that didn't stop them from fighting. Politics didn't belong in warfare, if you asked Anakin for his two cents. 

"So as a measure to keep both sides happy, the Duchess has asked us to deal with the problem.." Depa finished.

"Lianos isn't their jurisdiction." Anakin again found a hole in the Duchess' logic. "We don't need it. Lianos was a Republic territory before the war, we just haven't lended them credence in the senate." It was no wonder why they thought about leaving. "But the current structure of power has fallen, a bunch of disconnected bands of rebel fighters are working towards throwing off the CIS yoke."

"Sounds complicated." Anakin remarked. 

"Most wars are," replied Windu.

"No, not all." He spoke softly under his breath.

"But regardless, Lianos is important and must be kept out of CIS control." Windu didn't leave room for interpretation, Yoda nodded in complete agreement. 

"Why?" Ahsoka wanted to know, she's never heard of this backwater planet before in her life. "Since the Separatists destroyed our cloning facility on Kaminoo, we've focused most of our resources on taking out their droid foundries, they're more of them than we anticipated. The one they're building on Lianos would be the largest if completed." Depa answered.

The Clone War dwindled down to how much one side can cripple the others army of expendable soldiers, unlike previous wars where generals were saddled with the guilt of their plans creating who knows how many widows, this war allowed for the most reckless of strategies to be implemented. Suicide missions became a frequent occurrence on both sides, heartless droids and empty minded clones ran into the fire without a care. It was what they were programmed to do after all. Anakin considered himself above this savagery and wasn't so liberal with his usage of clones. 

"We have contacts on the planet of Lianos, the Galactic Republic has agreed to take in refugees. You, and Knight Rush will help them." Windu formally gave them their task. 

"Who are our contacts?" Anakin couldn't recount a council meeting where he had so many questions. Ahsoka stood beside her master frozen at the fact she was brought in for a full briefing, then told her services wouldn't be needed. 

"Masters," she interjected out of turn, a habit Anakin tried to break her of "but why can are my services not needed?" She tried to contain her growing scorn; she must've not done a good job as Depa and Windu exchanged an uneasy look towards her. "The situation on Lianos is far too hectic for someone of your status, Padawan Tano," Depa let her down easy, though it didn't make much of a difference to Ahsoka. Anakin leered at his student in hopes of conveying a request to stop speaking, Ahsoka did not heed his warning. 

"But I have experience," she rejected the concept she wasn't ready, her voice became a bit shrill "I've survived much worse." 

"You think you have," Windu emotionlessly shot back at the child, which disturbed even Anakin. "I believe Ahsoka is ready for anything, I've trained her well." He stepped up to defend his student, placing his hand on her shoulder as a way to ease the tension in her body. He knew what it was like for the Order to disrespect his power. 

"Your pride blinds you to your student's weaknesses, Master Skywalker." Yoda attempted to defuse the argument to get back to the more important matter at hand, but only succeeded in breathing the discussion new life. "And what are those blemishes?" Now it was Anakin speaking harshly to his superiors, only difference was he immediately regretted it upon the words leaving his mouth, Ahsoka, on the other hand would repeat herself if she had to. 

"Like you, pride is her pitfall, she isn't polished in lightsaber combat and lacks focus." Windu wasn't as cordial as master's Depa or Yoda, his tone grew colder, more annoyed with each passing word. This offended Skywalker; how could they say such a thing to his face, to his student's? This wasn't the place for a performance review. 

"The council has made its decision, Skywalker, no I suggest your Padawan leave us to continue the briefing." Windu asked somewhat nicely, subtle in his threats of penalty if the party didn't comply. "Yes, Masters," Anakin said through gritted teeth "I'm sorry, Ahsoka," he whispered as he gestured her to leave. Her pride wounded, she walked out trying to hold her heavy head up high. 

Anakin continued the briefing right from where they left off. "Who are our contacts?" He asked again.

"Dahntay Kie and Sadie Hawkins, smugglers, but have worked with us in the past. Kenobi and Hawkins worked together to help foil the attempted coup of the Duchess Sataine." Depa informed them, even though Anakin had never heard those names before, not even Obi-Wan told him of those people when he returned from the Mandalore mission, he had no choice but to believe them, but there was an unsettledness.


	4. Chapter 4

They called her in, just so they could shelve her. What was the point of that? To send some kind of message "this is what you could have been a part of if you weren't such a screwup." What kind of way was that to teach an apprentice. When she needed a friend the most, they were all stationed across the galaxy far from her reach. Leaving her to stew in her own resentment. She could feel Anakin's hostilities grow too, a little attributed to her outburst, but also he sympathized with her plight. He related to her by expressing how at her age he could not stand being sidelined while innocence suffered and it wasn't enough for the Jedi to respond to the suffering, but he himself had to be there in the thick of things.

"Ahsoka," Anakin reached out to her, she picked up her pace not interested in talking to anyone, including her master. He called to her again, Ahsoka begrudgingly stopped and turned backwards to see Anakin looking not to pleased with her. "What you did was totally out of line!" He harangued. "You made me look foolish, and like a poor teacher in front of the council."

"That's what you're worried about?" Ahsoka was taken aback. "Your image, what about your student?" 

Anakin remained defiant in his stance, pushing back against the sense he was wrong. "Speaking out of turn to the Masters, to defend your own ego...-"

"What are you even saying!" Ahsoka's voice reached beyond a yell. 

"I'm saying in these times of tremendous stress, the Jedi do not need you pipping up about your role." 

Ahsoka rolled her eyes and walked away; she knew it was a bad idea to hear out her master. And to think she thought he had her back.

 

"So you took care of that thing?" Semi wrapped his big arm around Mykle's neck, speaking softly. When he spoke like this it's usually right after he's seen a holoflick about the mob and his adolescent dreams return to life as a result. "Will I be seeing my friend again?" 

Mykle shook his head. "He's out of town and won't be coming back." He slyly handed Semi the bounty: 7,500 in golden and silver colored credits that sparkled when the light hit them just right, secured tightly in a white pouch. "How was he when you met him?"

"In bad shape, unraveling a bit. He'll get the help needed." Mykle answered with confidence like he was mob boss's right hand man. "Excellent," he hissed, snatching the 7,500 from Mykle's small hands, giving him three-hundred credits. Dissatisfied, still unwilling to voice a complaint, Mykle quietly took his chump change and wanted to leave, Semi's grip only tightened, slightly restricting the airflow in Mykle's lungs.

"You did me proud, my boy!" He laughs hardily. "Tomorrow is a big day, I'd like you to get some rest." This peaked Mykle's curiosity: what was he going to do now? "Dahntay and Sadie, friends of yours right?" Semi didn't wait for Mykle to reply, probably knowing he'd deny their relationship to keep them safe. "Eh, doesn't matter. Point is they'll give you a call. I need you to stay close by." He called over a man with a reptilian-like head and scales on the sides of his neck. Mykle didn't know which species this tall specimen was, all he knew was his face wasn't inviting. "Rouse, take my boy to his quarters where he'll be staying the night." Without even flinching, Rouse grabbed Mykle by the shoulders like a gym bag, he resisted, but ultimately didn't matter. 

"Hey, hey," he tried to get Semi attention "what the big idea?" He sounded like an old-timer whenever he spoke like that. "It's evacuation day, Mykle and I heard you can do two things well: drive and shoot. I'll need both tomorrow." A cold smile formed on his slightly deformed face. "Tomorrow," he lit up a death stick and took a big huff while Mykle continued to be dragged away "is the day we fight for the flag."

Mykle didn't even know if he wanted to fight for "the flag", what flag was he going to fight for? The tyrannical CIS or the inept, corrupt status-quo Liano' government that seemed to rake in even more money from the occupation and more than happy to crush the insurgency. Anything for a paycheck, he supposed. Most of his friends have joined the rebel cause, it be nice to see the old gang again. Mykle could never resist trying to rationalize situations he wasn't going to like. 

His quarter's couldn't have resembled a dungeon more than in its form. There was a flicker of light in sight, the floors were sticky and wet and the lone cot didn't have a blanket or pillow, to top it off there was no window and the cramped space still made the boy shiver. He went into his backpack, which Rouse was ever so kind to let him keep, and pulled out a flashlight, shinning the clear as day beam and surveying the room. To his surprise, his stuff, it startled him as he was sure the bags would be laying out in the street by now. He opened the zippers and found his stomach...mostly in tact. Clothes, not clean but still suitable for tomorrow, a lunch pack to start the day and a blanket. His stomach growled, he hasn't eaten all day, but restrained himself from opening the seal. Not until morning. 

One of the most valuable contents was his collection of Jedi textbooks and journals. He checked them out from various libraries in his younger days, his family moved around so much he never got around to sending them back. Jedi were stereotyped as tightlipped monks, rarely talkative about their experiences in the Jedi Temple. But in previous eras the Jedi were more open to the public. Even going as far to allow schools to take their students on a tour of the Jedi Temple for field trips. In their advanced age Jedi documented their adventures - ones that were unclassified - and authors took liberties with those tales to make their own stories. Though those days are long gone, the words lived on.

His favorite Jedi of them all was Satele Shan, daughter of famous redeemed Sith Revan. Not the most well-known of the Jedi when it seemed all they did was battle the Sith in a never ending war for the fate of the galaxy, Shan grew up very much in the shadow of someone undoubtedly of more importance historically and of greater skill. But so was not to be taken lightly, Satele possessed many of the gifts her father and mother (Bastila) utilized, such as battle meditation, the art of influencing the minds of men in battle, giving them a boost in moral, stamina and overall skill while simultaneously reducing the enemies capability to fight back efficiently. 

The art form astonished Mykle, he wished to learn it but all practitioners had passed on and the style had gone the way Arkanian dragon. He read of their tales, found the ones of embellished detail more fascinating and worth rereads, every night. It was his dream to become a Jedi. To travel the stars and learn of the secrets of the universe. However, when he was little, his parents were unwilling to let him go to the Jedi Temple when the chance presented itself. It was an act he never forgave them for. He saw it as a curse to remain a lowly despot, going from planet to planet. 

 

With the loss of his most trusted information, the once prideful Irwin sought the counsel of his boss, Count Dooku, that's how he spun it anyway. Irwin intended to request an scrubbing of the mission, he was leaving himself open to getting shot in the dark and it wasn't worth the land they'd conquer on the slim chance they were successful. His pleas were rebuffed. No matter how hard he tried to reason, to explain the advantages the CIS already enjoyed the Count wanted MiCo and its people building droids by sundown tomorrow.

"No excuses," he unnecessarily emphasized to the lieutenant who's collar gotten tighter by the second. "But sir," he must've said that five or six times during the conversation, but Dooku wouldn't have it. "No! The reason I molded this droid army is so I don't have to worry about casualties." 

While Irwin agreed, his gripe wasn't with the safety of the droids, but with the resources, oil and money wasted in a battle that will mostly have to be improvised. "I see," Irwin gave up trying to reason and accepted his lot "I can have the legion up and running in hours. We will be outside the city armed and ready for battle." 

"Good, Lieutenant, I am putting a lot of trust in you. Do not make me regret it." The lines blurred as the transmission cut, the weight on Irwin Sod's shoulders grew substantially to the point he his posture was faltering. Nobody was around to even care, let alone bat an eye. The standard battle droids bothered Irwin the most. Their insect like heads, black eyes that looked more like stickers or merely painted on unsettled him than any gravelly voice droid under this roof.

 

Sadie spent the last forty-hours planning for the big day; more like the last few weeks. In her little cave tinkering with the plot, calling in favors even from the most dirtiest of hands. No expenses could be cut, there wasn't time for false pride either. It made her stomach churn to shake the hands of men responsible for the pollution of The Krevis River, their smiles ranging from cavity riddled to only gum didn't make the process easier. Over one-hundred speeders, eight-hundred DC-15A blaster rifles for a fighting force of over a thousand. The Jedi promised assistance, they didn't say when; Sadie didn't want to wait. No one wanted to risk what would happen if the CIS found out the intel given to them was falsified. Best to strike first and take advantage of the two hour window. That's all this hard work let to: two hours. 

Again the Jedi contacted her..well not them. Captain Panaka, a person Sadie respect, was used as a proxy for the Jedi/Republic on the Lianos matter. His words did little to make her ease off the gas pedal. He tried to contact again this morning, she didn't return the call. Not today. Either they show up or they don't, too many lives are at stake. 

As much as it pained her to rely on the bantha waste that is Semi, he was more reliable than the Jedi, the Republic, and their unhinged next door neighbor: the Mandalorians. "Sadie," she heard her name echo through the com-link "come in." He called. 

"Yes," she huffed, annoyed to be taken away from her work. "It's Mykle, I guess Semi lets his prisoners keep contact with the outside world." 

"Then you're not really in prison." She commented on his remark. She didn't approve of locking your own soldiers up in a dungeon all night, but most of the fighters have the tendencies to have a pre-battle drink the night before, so she understood where Semi was coming from. 

"All that's missing is the three square meals a day." He quipped. "How do you feel?" Sadie couldn't recall the last time someone asked her that question. "You nervous?" 

"Always, Mykle. I haven't caught a wink of sleep in weeks." She looked at her reflection in the little bit of water left in her cup and saw the bags forming under her eyes, they looked strained and now that Mykle mentioned it, her eyelids were heavier than lead. She made a mental note to put a pot of caf to brew, it be her eighth cup today. She wondered how her body could withstand such doses of caffeine every day for such a period of time. "How about you?" She asked, hoping to take her attention off somewhere else.

"Why didn't you tell me you and Dahntay were with Semi?" 

"Pardon?" She pretended not to understand what Mykle meant. "I didn't know you did business with the underworld."

"War brings out the the most desperate in people."

"You say 'desperate', I'm thinking of another word." Mykle passed a comment about what he saw was hypocrisy. "How can you trust him?"

"I can't," Sadie admitted "there isn't another person on this planet that can give me what Semi said he could offer. Especially not in such a short span of time."

"He doesn't own an assembly line that makes speeders." Mykle pointed out. "He's a thief."

"And the city is a war zone; their are no rules anymore." She tried to say this without showing a hint of emotion, even though each word tightened the knot in her stomach. "It's hard to look at myself in the mirror now, but all of this isn't about my ego, my feelings, it's about the safety and freedom of the innocent." 

"Hammy much?" Mykle joked, his humor always lightened the damp mood. "What's your plan for these people once they're off the planet?"

Sadie was hesitant to give details, the threat of her communications being tapped were real. "You know where." She acted all wise. "It's between Nonya and Bewaz." Mykle was about to respond in confusion, until he pieced together what Sadie was trying to say.

"Well I got secrets too!" He boasted, to even himself that statement sounded childish, he hoped Sadie thought of the remark as nothing more than a joke. 

"I'm sure you do." She rolled her green eyes, "I gotta go. See you out there." 

"Yeah, see you out there, Sadie."

The batteries in his flashlight gone out about an hour ago, he grew bored in his cell and waited eagerly for his release. Mykle didn't sign up to be a soldier in The Clone War, but his feelings towards the CIS weren't fond. He was also no fool. Throwing off the CIS yoke would only embolden the powers that stood before, who profited off the status quo; nothing would change, the illusion of change is enough for some people. It wasn't for Sadie...

 

The trip from Coruscant to Lianos was a long one. An asteroid field that stretched nearly all way to their destination, forced Anakin's fleet to navigate carefully and not utilize their hyperspace drive. He criticized his Padawan for her inability to quell her angst, he had the same problems still even after his knighthood. Anakin never could run from a fight; he wasn't willing to play patient, unlike Ahsoka, he wasn't someone to take his mortality lightly anymore. The council understood Ahsoka still had that to learn, he defended her honor; she did not think it that way. It hurt him to leave her in the Temple, no one to talk to, left to toil away while the universe burned around her. A familiar feeling he did not want anyone to go through.

Bags formed under his eyes, Anakin hasn't slept in days, it showed during daily inspections and short briefings to make sure the ship still ran smoothly. A little detail here and there would fly over his head, luckily he had his trustworthy second-in-command, Captain Rex to play secretary along with his military responsibilities. Out of all the Clones he's served with, out of all the familiar faces, Rex' always stood out to Anakin. Now he knew why. 

"Rex, what's our status?" Anakin asked for a checkup. "Still deep in the asteroid field, navigator says hyperspace isn't a viable, 'safe' option for another 2,100 meters." Skywalker groaned, the pace of their own ship moved at the rate of a snail mixed with a tortoise; let alone the entire fleet! Worse: communications were jammed thanks to the asteroid field, so they were approaching Lianos completely blind. Five-hours from Lianos, and way behind on time. Each fleeting moment made the Jedi fidget, and he knew this was not the Jedi way: to seek adventure and glory. Use the Force, think! He replayed that Obi-Wan quote countless times in his head, it did little to affect him.

He envisioned the battle already unfolding, sounds of blaster and cannon fire filling up the air, It's flame becoming visible from the planet's orbit. The thought made his knees nearly buckle, sweat trickled down his temple and the collar on his black as coal tunic becoming tighter. He needed a drink of cold water. Very cold. The ice needs to be at the temperature of Hoth. Why did the prelude to battles do this to him? He was the furthest thing from a greenhorn, serving in The Clone Wars for more than a couple months, not to mention his service in other conflicts that never went beyond minor, but still had its heated moments where death was certainly possible. 

It was too hot in his quarters; wasn't cooler anywhere else. Only place that had any escape from the heat was the fridge in the bottom of the ship, where all the meat was kept for the soldiers. Sounds like the perfect place for him.


	5. Chapter 5

Ahsoka couldn't tell how long she's been down next to the icicles, the meat freezer usually warms up a bit when the ship enters hyperspace, guessing that never happened given the area just kept getting colder and colder, she shivered uncontrollably. "Just my luck." She said through chattering teeth. She asked herself mentally if she regrets sneaking aboard on this dangerous mission, only to waive off the idea instantly. Give her one-hundred chances to replay the scenario and she'd do the same thing one-hundred times. The only thing she'd do differently is pack a parka.

She hadn't heard a peep since boarding, struggling to stay awake; trips from Coruscant to Mandalore don't take longer than an hour in hyperspace, her body was about to shut down, the blistering cold combined with her light head made it difficult to fight a sweet slumber. Brought out of her lazy state by the sound of the door, she took her usual hiding spot behind the assorted meats stacked up high it hid even her montrals which padded her petite height. Pressing her back against the crates, she eyed who was it making their way inside. "Anakin?" The white facial marking above her left eye raised. The Jedi Knight took in the cold air, his body enjoying the cool sensation, he stretched his bones.

He looked stressed, she saw the bags forming under his wry eyes, the slouch in his posture. Skywalker felt the sweat on his head freeze away, his rolled up sleeves showed his little blonde hairs on his arms standing straight up. He worried if his lightsaber was willing to withstand the below freezing temperatures. His focus was thrown off, not even his brief respite in confinement didn't warrant quality alone time. "Who's there?" He sensed he wasn't alone, the picture was becoming clearer by the second. "Ahsoka?" He hoped he was wrong in his assessment, when the Togruta emerged from her hiding place that wasn't the case. He didn't say anything upon seeing her, he stood there in a bit of a shock.

"I know what I did was...unorthodox, it's nothing you wouldn't do." She defended her actions, trying mightily to defuse the situation. Anakin had to admit guilt to the last part: this was up his alley. The fact Ahsoka saw her master hesitant to reply to the claim, and his first sentence deflected away from it gave her all the sign she needed to know she was right. 

"That's not the point," he says, searching for the right words. He didn't want to chew her out like some sort of drill-Sgt., Obi-Wan taught Anakin in that opposite of a lenient fashion and he always thought it stunted his growth as a Jedi. "You never ever listen to me and march to the tune of your own drum." 

"Oh, and you don't?" This is the part where Anakin regretted telling Ahsoka all those stories of his younger self getting into mischief. "You're always judging me by a different standard." 

"Maybe I wouldn't if you just listened!" He hadn't the time or the patience for this squabbling. All they did was argue, finding new ways to tick the other off. Anakin saw so much of himself in her, he tried to stomp it out at every turn.

"What's the point," he gave up "you're here now, surely walking into the largest battle you've ever encountered in your life. I bet you're happy you came."

"Yes, I am." She smiled triumphantly. "Well good," Anakin tried to convey a feeling of indifference "our navi-computer is on the fritz, so we couldn't find an alternative way to get to Lianos without going through the asteroid belt. I took a few cracks at fixing it, might as well you do the same." He told her to come along so she could be shown the computer.

 

The first round of blast weren't by lasers, they were smoke and EMP grenades, the first actual blaster-fire aimed for the floodlights. Predictably, the air became cluttered with unmanned starfighters, Irwin always had an affection for a quick air strike. Dahntay heard no siren sounds, no voices, only the engines of the incoming fighters. Dahntay did not have much optimism for Sadie's plan. He'd lead a force of mostly reprogrammed droids to provide a diversion while Sadie and Semi went on with the evacuation. Dahntay believe Lieutenant Sod wasn't a "simpleton" and could walk and chew up at the same time. No one listened, so he became the lone being leading a group of droids in what could be described as a suicide mission.

"I wouldn't send you if I didn't think you'd return." Sadie spoke to him beforehand, trying to ease his growing concerns. It did little to help, the change in plan ticked him off. "These battle droids can blend in seemlessly with CIS droids." She pointed out.

"It's pointless if you want me to do more than just make a bunch of noise." Dahntay pointed out the superfluousness of that detail. "Which means," Sadie continued "they can shoot with the same accuracy." 

"How do you know?" Dahntay wasn't convinced. "Have you tested them out? The rewiring may have affected their programming." Sadie didn't seem too concerned, brushing off the idea. "I assure you, you're in good hands."

"I don't want to be in anyone's hands." Dahntay continued to protest. Having enough with this petty scrabbling, Sadie put her foot down. "This is what you signed up for, their lives at stake and we don't have time to complain about roles."

He didn't admit it, but he knew the Twi'lek was right. Nerves were getting the best of Kie, he knew that too. Months of preparation, this last second change in plan doubled his heart rate. "You'll have Mykle to help." And again, Dahntay was taken aback.

"Excuse me?" He wanted to hear the sentence one more time to make sure he wasn't imagining things.

"He's your snipper." Sadie confirmed Dahntay's fears. "Oh, this just keeps getting better." In his mind, he would never utter these words in front of Sadie, for she hated the phrase as much as he did: I gotta bad feeling about this. 

Mykle wasn't feeling any better. He seen the pout on Dahntay's face, his shoulders slumped. He expected glory; to him this particular job would only be remembered as a footnote in history. "He shouldn't be worried about that." Mykle thought to himself, did not have the guts to say to his face. One after another the droids fell, the alarm would have sounded well after the first shot if he didn't spot the tower and loud speakers first. But still, Irwin caught wind of the attack much sooner than Mykle and Dahntay had hoped, dispatching his fighting force to crush them. "You set the minds right?" Mykle's voice shook at the sight of a few hundred droids galloping across the terrain with little difficultly. 

Dahntay nodded, he too was astonished at the sight before him. "Let's hope they work."

"No." Mykle added. "Hope they do enough."

The mines were impactful, to say the least. Like a big wall of dust, separated pieces of metal flew high, the ground split open by 25 meters, halting the charge. Mykle's body relaxed, as did Dahntay's, so much they did not fire a shot for a good thirty-seconds. 

Irwin's unreadable expression failed to portray the befuddlement he was feeling. Half his charging force became scrap metal in a quarter of a second and by an old school tactic, nonetheless. He hadn't seen landlines utilized by a fighting force since his days at the academy. What's next, barbed wire? A quick inspection of the battle through binoculars proved his joke was a definite reality. "Amateurs," he scolded his adversaries, as if they sought his approval. 

With the ground forces neutralized for a short time, Mykle pointed his scope to the air, aiming hard for the exposed engines. "Having trouble?" Dahntay asked, as he re-routed his droids formation from his com-link. "This things just go straight, they're gonna fall like chopped down trees." Which, much to the boys credit, they did. Quite spectacularly, for that matter. Four fighters hit the ground, pieces of the disassembled air vehicle splashed around No Man's Land. Unfortunately, two fighters landed atop the resistance's droid fighting force, hampering their numbers severely. 

"We're down sixty!" Dahntay counted. "They're down ninety-four!" Mykle retorted. "There's five-thousand droids in there." That humbled Briggs, slightly. "We don't have enough ammo for that many." 

"We're not trying to take all of them down." Dahntay told Myke this as if it were nothing more than an insignificant tidbit. "I know our role, doesn't mean I like it." Mykle shared Dahntay's sentiments towards being used as shiny objects. 

"Save your breath." Kie replied, portraying indifference. "I wasted mine." He added, adding suppressing fire to keep the second wave at bay. "I don't know how long I could keep doing this."

"Get ready to move back." Mykle reminded Dahntay of the plan's second phase. He shook his head "not yet," 

Irwin became ever impatient. His air superiority meant zilch and a big split separated his vast numbers of soldiers from the city of MiCo. He wanted the city and he wanted now. "Sir, intel has gathered an evacuation of MiCo." A droid informed the lieutenant through a squeaky voice. The lieutenant's face turned blood red. "You're kidding!" He was taken for a fool, not only blindsided by a small force, but had the rug pulled out from under him too. "Get fighters in the air, scramble them to the boarders before they leave the atmosphere." Irwin ordered. "But, sir,-" Irwin's face turned redder at the droids lack of ability to keep quite. "No, you shut up! You're nothing but a hunk of scrap metal, you don't know anything about the complexity of military strategy, now do as you're told!" It was rare for Irwin to lose his cool like this. Even the droid, in his heartless program had to slink away like a child who was just yelled at by his parents. 

"Can't sound the alarms," Irwin began to talk to himself "perhaps..." he couldn't bomb MiCo into submission, he needed the people for the work-camps; the CIS dedicated a vast sum of their droid army to making the droid army itself, Irwin - and so did the Count - saw it as a redundant way of doing things "yes..." he snapped his fingers, a little glimmer shined in his eyes. "AO-491, do you copy?" He called for his watchmen model droid, who responded and was at its post. "Initiate protocol 61-T4.9." This took the droid aback, "but sir," he pleaded for the lieutenant to reason like the last one did fruitlessly. 

"I don't care, just do it!" He wasn't having any of it, they haven't tested out this new gizmo, but time was of the essence - and quite frankly his own well-being, as well.

 

Entering the atmosphere, Sadie commanded four ships carrying over three-hundred citizens of the town, MiCo. She, along with twenty paid mercenaries, flying cramped starfighters to escort the cargo safely across planet lines. The aircrafts handle in a herky-jerky manner, dipping to the left when exiting the planet's atmosphere. "Can't you fly this thing?" One of Sadie's mercenaries asked, picking herself off the floor. "That wasn't me..." the pilot answered, pointing to the two pylons just outside of the planet's boarder. Sadie judged from the two pylons that she'd have to radically alter their course. A purple shield unfolded like an umbrella, and then another and another. "They're boxing us in!" One mercenary relied to the others, Sadie didn't have to be told the obvious. Without hesitation she ordered for the pylons to be shot, the blasts worked enough to short-circuit the pylons only for a short time.

"What you time it at?" Sadie asked a mercenary. She replied eight seconds, "give-or-take."

"We'll need to time this out just right, and we need to have our skins covered." 

Behind them, fighters of the opposing side were gaining on them convoy, the resistance starfighters stayed close-knit to avoid being picked off and protect the cargo. "Stay in line, boys, stay in line." Sadie calmly said, switching from mag to cannon, the birds swarmed around them, figuring they'd instill an angst in the convoy, but Sadie kept the crew even-keel. One enemy fighter turned to ash, then another, but two of Sadie's mercenary ships bit the dust. 

"Stay in formation." She ordered, but she could sense the panic starting to grow. Zeroing in her magazine at the pylons, she readied her convoy to switch on their respective boosters to take advantage of the small window. "1...2...3!" The convoy zoomed past, two more mercenary fighters, Sadie felt a lot of relief once the CIS was behind them, then remembered the payment she'd have to pay her mercenaries - plus tax for the losses of life. But it was all worth it. 

A relieved Dahntay got word of Sadie's team linking up with the incoming Republican fleet. "Fall back!" He ordered of Mykle, before telling him exactly why they were to do this. Mykle stopped to reload his magazine, paying no mind to what he heard as a ridiculous idea. "For what?" He asked. 

"She broke through!" Sadie's plan had succeeded, to what extent he did not know now. He did know the window to escape was closing, their ammo supply was depleted and their makeshift droid army was mostly decimated. "Time to move," to Mykle, though they had made great strides advancing towards the base and doing damage to the superior force. He did not want to retreat, the mission wasn't merely to set up a diversion for the CIS, it was to send a powerful message of what even the most low-level people are capable of. 

"Semi didn't give me these for nothing!" Mykle opened up his backpack to show Dahntay seismic grenades. "Those won't tear down the wall." Kie pointed out. "Semi gave you the wrong bombs."

"No, he didn't." Mykle replied. "I'm going to scale the wall and take out the base's power grid and force them on emergency power. They'll be limited for weeks, unable to do anything but stay put." 

"This is highly irresponsible." Dahntay tried to distance himself from the moment and observe the situation from a rational lens...like Sadie told him. "Then you can watch me make my way across the rest of No Man's Land." Mykle sounded serious, and he wasn't one to make an empty threat like that. Sighing, defeated, Dahntay gave in and it wasn't like he didn't think about doing the same thing. It was time to show the resistance was able to do more than just cut-and-run. 

With the loss of the bulk of the enemies fighting force, the ride across No Man's Land relatively was easy. Call after call from Sadie to Dahntay, Mykle stopped him from accepting the call. 

 

Sadie never was so worn out before. Her green legs wobbled, in need of a respite. "Are you okay?" Semi asked her. "Yeah." Sadie tried to fight off her need to sleep. The only thoughts that went through her mind were only if Mykle and Dahntay heeded her order. 

 

"You sure about this?" Dahntay asked the younger Mykle, to which he replied absolutely. "The charges are set and will-" prematurely the charges went off, their ears rang, the feeling of their skulls caving in consumed them. "Why did Semi trust you to use these things! And why didn't I just set them?" Dahntay clasped his hands over both of his ears. In a moment guards surrounded them and they were forced to surrender  
.

Inside, Irwin was becoming irate. Like moths he wasn't able to get rid of the vermin constantly surrounding him. "Give me the damage report." He struggled to ask for, the news was never good. "Twenty percent of our fight force, sir." Over one-hundred thousand soldiers bit the dust in less than an hour, and Irwin knew he was right about the inefficiencies of the droid army, but the value quantity outweighed quality to the Count. "I hate to say this, but I think it's time I ask for help." It wasn't more droids he would be asking for, it was someone far more dangerous: Dooku's apprentice.


End file.
